


Humans or Villains

by kad88



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Batfamily (DCU), Civilian Tim Drake, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tim Drake-centric, Villain Alternate Universe, villain AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29487414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kad88/pseuds/kad88
Summary: Bruce Wayne is the richest man in Gotham, thanks to Wayne Enterprises. The trouble is, Tim is pretty sure Wayne Enterprises doesn’t actually exist. The earliest record of the company isn’t more than a couple decades old, despite the public perception that Wayne inherited everything from his parents. What’s more, far more money seems to be going out of the company than going in. Tim’s investigation leads him to the Bats, a feared gang of supervillains notorious for their violence and grand schemes—a sure combination for danger. But soon, Tim’s snooping becomes less about uncovering the truth, and more about taking solace in this strange, broken family he observes.And somehow becomes a part of.Or, an AU where a villainous batfam adopts a civilian Tim.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 48
Kudos: 230





	1. Caught

Tim’s ankles ached from his crouched position on the rooftop opposite Gotham City Bank, waiting. He’d been there for hours, but still no sign of the Bats. After the months he’d spent noting their patterns and listening in on their conversations, he’d been sure he’d deduced the location and night of their next heist, but he must have gone wrong somewhere. He rubbed his fingers along the edges of his camera, the cold Gotham night pricking at his skin. If they didn’t arrive soon, he’d have to leave and re-think his notes, but no, they had to be here. A special item was being kept secure in the bank before being transferred to another location. Supposedly, it was a piece of super rare and expensive tech, but the city was keeping hush about it for the most part. Tim had kept track of the guards’ schedules, as well as police routes in the area, and this was the optimal night to break in, he was sure. Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, and Robin were all supposed to be involved in this one, and it was rare for so many Bats to be in the field on a single job. Or, it would have been. Tim tried to shrug off the disappointment. Maybe he could try again tomorrow night. 

A wire line shot out from the building adjacent to the bank. Tim lifted his camera, taking a picture just as two figures skated across the wire. He grinned. So he hadn’t been wrong. 

From their silhouettes, it must have been Nightwing and Robin. Tim squinted his eyes, searching for the other two figures. Batgirl was usually the trickiest to capture. She slinked into the shadows as if she were made of them herself, and Tim wasn’t so sure she wasn’t. Photographs of her were rare, but always turned out the most badass of the bunch. He scooted forward eagerly, holding up the camera just in time to catch a movement in the alleyway next to the bank. He snapped the picture, unsure if he caught anything, but he’d be sure to check later. It wasn’t unusual for him to miss something the night of the stakeout, only to later realize he’d gotten a great photo of a person or event he’d missed. 

Once, he’d gotten a picture of Red Hood chucking Robin at an opponent. The sheer horror on the youngest Bat’s face was enough comedy-fuel to last Tim weeks. Sometimes, he still went back to the image to remind himself that Robin had other expressions beyond his trademark scowl. 

Bats himself should be here, too, according to some of his eavesdropping. He might’ve been the movement Tim had seen in the shadows, or he could’ve been on the other side of the building. There was also the chance that he was just supervising on a rooftop somewhere. A shiver ran up Tim’s spine when he realized that meant he could be on the same rooftop as him. He glanced around, but didn’t see anyone. 

Tim returned to observing the bank, but it was as still as it had been before the Bats had arrived. If everything went well, he wouldn’t see anything else interesting until they left with whatever it was they were stealing, probably about 20 minutes from now. 

Ugh, Tim wished he could get inside. The only time he truly got to see any of the action was when the Bats pulled a stunt on the streets or in one of the numerous Gotham warehouses that were surprisingly easy to get into. While he waited, Tim zoomed the camera lens in and out on a security guard who kept circling the building, hands in his pockets. Since the guy hadn’t picked up his radio and run off in a panic yet, Tim assumed the heist was going well, and he’d see the Bats exit shortly. 

As if they’d read his mind, a few figures darted over the rooftops, away from the bank in opposite directions. Tim reacted quickly, taking a couple snapshots of the closest figures before returning his attention to the bank. 

No police sirens yet, but he’d better scat before they realized they’d been robbed. He carefully placed his camera in his bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder and climbing down off the roof through the fire escape. Tim walked the first couple of blocks, hoping not to draw attention, before hopping on his skateboard. 

He returned to an empty house. Heh, empty mansion. Seemed a stupid thing to complain about. The long, dark hallways and creaky floorboards might have unnerved someone else if they were without company, but Tim was used to it. 

Tim collapsed in bed, lifting his camera over his head and clicking through the images. Most of the photos were blurry this time, but that was expected considering the stealthy nature of the job. If he wanted some good action shots, he could always follow up on the sort of work Red Hood had been doing. Unlike the other Bats, Red Hood had branched out beyond the “sophisticated” heists, going for protection rackets and taxing local criminals, though beating the shit out of random people seemed to be his main job description. 

He clicked to the next photo. It had been Batgirl in the shadows. Tim noticed the familiar shape he hadn’t seen when he’d snapped the picture. The figures he’d seen leaving were Nightwing and Robin. Zooming in, he noticed a small object in Nightwing’s hand, and he wondered if it was their prize, or just a tool to achieve it. Tim didn’t recognize it, but that didn’t mean much. Wayne Enterprises came up with some pretty neat stuff, and the stuff they kept out of the public eye tended to be the coolest. 

Tim tried to imagine how they’d pulled off the theft. Cool gadgets? Most definitely. He’d seen the grappling hooks, smoke bombs, and tasers, amongst other weapons. Maybe they’d used radio jammers, and that was why the front security guard never heard anything from inside. But how’d they get through security without even a hint of attention? He leapt from his bed and grabbed a pen and sheet of paper from his desk. Hmm, if he wanted to steal from the city bank, he’d… 

He sketched out his own idea of how he’d accomplish it. It was a much cruder idea than what he assumed actually went down tonight, and it was a little difficult considering he didn’t really know the schematics of the bank beyond the lobby, but he felt a small thrill every time he found a solution to a barrier to getting in and out undetected. 

No wonder the Bats were into this stuff. The thrill of planning was probably nothing in comparison to the actual thing. 

Tim fell asleep over his desk, bank vaults and grappling hooks dancing around in his head. 

~

“You look like death,” Stephanie said, plopping down beside him at the lunch table. Tim’s face was firmly planted on the table, and he groaned from the effort of actually lifting his head up. 

“Yeah, well,” Tim scratched the back of his head, “stayed up late working on homework.” Stayed up late freezing so he could see two seconds of supervillains entering and exiting a building. Riveting. 

“No wonder your grades are so good, Mr. Smarty-pants.” Stephanie stole a chicken nugget from Tim’s untouched lunch tray, muttering “gross” under her breath, but still popping it in her mouth. “Just do what I do, which is to say, don’t do it,” she said with food still in her mouth. 

Tim scoffed. “And have my parents jump down my throat? No thanks. And don’t pretend you don’t do your homework, I know you do.”

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone. And it might be a nice change of pace for you. What’s the saying? Negative attention is better than no attention at all? How’re they doing anyway?”

“Not sure. I think they’re in Bora Bora right now, so good, I guess. Uh, and yours?” He thought he already knew the answer. 

“Still divorced. Dad’s been… ” She trailed off, chewing on her cheek. “They’ve been good.”

“Right.” She was holding something back, something more than usual, but he decided against pressing the issue. Steph’d share if she wanted to, and he didn’t want to somehow make things worse by asking about it. Instead, he stared down at his food, stomach clenching. “You can have the rest of my lunch, I’m not very hungry.” 

“Probably for the best, since I’ve already eaten half of it. Though you gotta eat more if you’re gonna keep staying up so late.”

“If you thought that you shouldn’t have eaten my food.” 

The bell rang, interrupting Steph’s laugh. Tim gathered his things as Steph finished off the last chicken nugget. 

“Snoozers losers,” she said, “wanna hang out tonight?” 

“Can’t. Lots of homework, plus a unit test tomorrow.” Plus patrolling Gotham with his camera. He thought he’d try the docks tonight. “But I’m free over the weekend. Big Belly Burger?”

“Duh, see ya saturday.” She shuffled off the class, and Tim trudged to his own, his mind on later tonight rather than on his next class. 

He might get lucky and see Red Hood if he went to the docks. At the very least there’d be something suspicious going on—there always was at the docks, though it wasn’t always Bat-related. Hood’s schedule was a little less predictable than the others. The other Bats were out nearly every night, but they tended to target notable marks. Corporate buildings. Banks. Large events. Wealthy homes. (Tim secretly hoped they’d target his own home one day, though he felt a twinge of guilt, knowing the inconvenience it would cause his parents). Red Hood, on the other hand, was a wild card. Half the time, Tim couldn’t figure out what he was up to. He just assumed Hood liked having his fingers in many pies, which led him to operate a bit more independently than the other Bats. 

Other than obvious targets of theft, the villains could be found picking fights with other villains. Red Hood did this the most frequently, but all of them participated in keeping the streets “clean.” If another Gotham villain tried to move in on their “turf,” which was often, one of the Bats would undoubtedly be paying them a visit. The Bats typically allowed petty crimes to pass without notice, but any big schemes from a non-bat villain were put to a screeching and violent halt. Because of this, Gotham was notorious for their crime being controlled by villain wars, rather than by heroes. And some of those villain wars had devastating consequences. 

So, most of the time, Tim couldn’t go wrong with patrolling an area ripe for theft, or hanging around a location with active villains. As long as it wasn’t the Joker. 

Of course, it was all still a guessing game. His choice of patrol only yielded results maybe once or twice a week. It was also dangerous. He’d been jumped a couple times, and though he’d always managed to get away only a little worse for wear, he knew his luck would only stretch so far. 

Yet, he still went out every night, hoping to see them. 

There was the thrill of it all, sure, but his favorite moments were after the fight or job was over, when the Bats would sometimes just talk or goof around. It happened most often when Nightwing was around, but they all had their moments. Batman giving a curt “good job” to the others. Nightwing, Red Hood, and Batgirl taking turns teasing Robin. Batgirl turning everything into a game or competition. Nightwing and Red Hood bantering. 

Tim somehow felt like he was privy to some sort of secret or inside joke every time he saw the Bats acting like… people instead of villains. 

~

That night, Tim weaved between freight containers, carts, and boxes at the docks, camera once again in hand. He knew that if he looked into any of the containers, the likelihood of finding something illicit was high—this was Gotham after all. But he wasn’t interested in smuggled weapons or drugs. 

While scouting on some online forums, he’d read some rumors about Scarecrow cooking up a new fear formula, and some “special” ingredients making their way into the harbor tonight. They could just be that—rumors, but he’d been… pretty deep in the web when he’d stumbled across a henchmen recruitment forum. Which was unexpected, to say the least, and a bit amusing. He’d thought it had been a joke at first, but he’d been able to match up some of the users’ bios to arrest records. 

A loud crash echoed through the shipping yard, followed by a chorus of shouts and grunts. There. Tim scurried towards the sound. 

As he got closer, he found the origin of the racket. Nightwing and Robin were fending off a dozen or so henchmen, while Scarecrow shouted something unintelligible at the goons. With all the chaos unfolding between the two groups and the cover the crates provided, Tim thought he might be able to approach without notice. 

Tim’s legs and arms shook as crept forward. This was the closest he’d been to a fight in a long time. 

Click. 

Yes! Nightwing whacking a goon on top of the head with an Escrima stick. Robin kneeing one guy in the nose. An unfortunate fella getting nailed in the throat. Tim allowed himself a small fist pump. These were some of the clearest photos he’d ever gotten, and the Bats’ poses looked pretty freakin’ rad. 

Nightwing and Robin made short work of the rest of their opponents before facing Scarecrow. The man quivered as Nightwing spoke to him softly, a dangerous smile on his face. Robin took one step forward, and Scarecrow scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over himself before he turned around in a full sprint. 

As soon as Scarecrow was out of sight, Nightwing and Robin tore their gaze away and spoke in hushed voices. Curious, Tim tried to catch some of the words, but all he heard was vaguely English-like sounds. The thought of leaving before they had reason to come in his direction didn’t occur to him. 

At last, the two separated, slinking into the shadows in opposite directions. Tim was debating which one to follow when a voice spoke up from behind him. 

“What do we have here?”

Tim nearly jumped out of his skin. Nightwing stood behind him, arms crossed.

“I- I was just—” Crap. 

“A camera?” Nightwing raised an eyebrow and extended his hand. 

“I-” Tim repeated, glancing back and forth between Nightwing and his camera. “Please don’t break it.” 

“Cross my heart, though I may do some deleting.”

Damn. Those were good photos, too. He handed it over, and Nightwing started going through his pictures. “Huh, these are pretty good shots.” 

“I wasn’t going to do anything weird with them, I swear. It’s just a hobby.”

“Stalking us is your hobby?” He didn’t sound angry, just amused. Tim felt his cheeks growing warm. 

“I wouldn’t call it stalking.”

“Look, kid. As long as I don’t find out that you’re giving intel to the Joker or something, we’re fine. But I’m assuming you’re a civilian, and this is dangerous stuff. You really shouldn’t be getting this close to what we’re doing.” 

“I’ve been alright so far.” 

“So far, huh,” Nightwing said. He leaned back against a crate with a casual smile on his face as he spoke. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Half a year, maybe.”

“And none of us noticed.” Nightwing rubbed his jaw, his smile fading. “That’s… not great. For us, I mean, pretty impressive on your part. I am the first who’s caught you, right? You’re not Hood’s new cronie, or something?”

Tim shook his head. 

“No, I’m not the first one who’s caught you, or no you’re not Hood’s new cronie?”

“Not a cronie,” Tim murmured. 

“That’s good. I can’t imagine he’d be a very fun boss.” 

Tim didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, so he didn’t. 

Nightwing stared at him for a long time. Though his expression was fairly neutral, Tim sensed he was being analyzed. He fidgeted under the gaze, wondering if he was about to die. 

“Alright,” Nightwing said at last, “I believe you. I’m gonna give the others a heads up that you’re doing this. I can’t promise they’ll take it as well as me, or won’t try to stop you from continuing, but nobody’s gonna kill you if they notice you tailing them. Probably.” 

“Oh, that’s good.” 

“Sure is. Hm, these pictures are from quite a few different nights. How have you been finding us?” 

“Just… internet. Considered the places you go to often, or places I thought would be a good hit. And also just wandering around.”

“Bound to find a bat if you look in the right places.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at one another again in uncomfortable silence. Perhaps not so uncomfortable for Nightwing, but it sure was for Tim. Shit, he had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation. 

Nightwing burst out laughing. 

“Did- did I do something?” Tim wanted to die on the spot, this was so embarrassing. He’d known one of his patrols would go wrong eventually, but he didn’t expect to be laughed at by one of Gotham’s most notorious villains. Maimed? Yes. Killed? A distinct possibility. Made fun of? Not in a million years. 

“No, no. I just—jeez, kid. I still can’t believe it. Oracle’s gonna get a kick out of this.”

“Oracle?”

“Sorry, but I’m gonna have to keep you in suspense on that one. Maybe it’ll mitigate B’s disappointment when he finds out none of us caught on to you for so long. Wouldn’t be surprised if he knew about you this whole time and was testing to see which one of us noticed first.” Nighwing’s face brightened. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. If you’re such a fanboy, you’ll want to meet Robin.”

“I’m not a fanboy.” And he didn’t particularly want to meet Robin. The kid always looked on the brink of a rampage, a small hurricane of knives and fury. But chances like this didn’t come often. Maybe he should… “Okay, maybe I am… a little. A fan, that is.”

Nightwing returned his camera, which Tim took back cautiously, and led him back through the crates, moving swiftly and not bothering to check if Tim was still following. Tim almost thought he lost Nightwing a few times, but he somehow managed to keep him in sight until Nightwing came to an abrupt halt. 

“Nightwing.” Robin stepped out of the shadows. “You are late, I- Who is this?”

Nightwing slapped Tim on the shoulder. “We got ourselves a stalker, Little D. One that’s pretty good at keeping up.” 

Little D. Damian Wayne, Tim noted mentally. They should be more careful about hinting at their identities in the field. 

“Robin this is… I don’t think I’ve asked your name.”

“Tim.” Tim swallowed hard. “Timothy Drake.”

“A Drake, huh? Tim, this is Robin.”

“Why are you introducing us? I thought you said he was a stalker.” Robin’s question sounded more like a demand, and a batarang had somehow managed to find its way into his hand when Tim blinked. 

“More like a fan. He’s been following us around for months, months, and none of us have been the wiser. And he’s got some neat photos of us. You looked particularly adorable in a couple of them, I might hang some on the fridge.”

“If you even contemplate such a ridiculous sentiment, I will kill you.” Robin spoke to Nightwing, but he eyed Tim, the hand holding the batarang twitching. “Why were you taking pictures?” 

Tim sensed he was one wrong move away from being murdered by a pre-teen, so he chose his next words carefully, attempting his most innocent grin. 

“It’s like Nightwing said, I’m a fan. You might be used to it, but it’s pretty cool for someone like me to be able to see some of the stuff you guys do. I just like observing, and having something to look back on.” He shrugged. “Nothing too major.”

“Nothing ‘major’? Most would not appreciate their photos being taken without their knowledge, especially by such a bumbling imbecile.” 

“Robin,” Nightwing warned. 

“Most people aren’t costumed supervillains,” Tim said. “The weird get-up and high profile crimes sort of demand attention. If you ask, I’ll stop, but I’m not an idiot.” 

“Tt.”

“I’ll talk to the others, Tim. If you do go out again, try to be careful. Despite what you might think, none of us want a civilian coming to harm because of us.” 

He was… surprisingly nice for a supervillain. 

~

His second incident with a Bat was only a few nights later. Tim hadn’t even been patrolling then, only walking around for some fresh air. He’d gotten it into his head that he should just give up on his exploits. Once upon a time, this had all started as an investigation into Wayne Enterprises, but now he realized he no longer had an end goal. Tim didn’t want to turn over any of his knowledge to the police, and the game of following the Bats around dwindled now that they knew what he was doing. 

Earlier in the night, he’d lain awake, trying to resist the urge to go out, when it had all gotten to be too much for him. He was out the door, determined to only take a walk and not go looking for any Bats, when a figure had appeared beside him. 

He slowed his pace and glanced at Batgirl as she stared at him. It was eerie, knowing her eyes were on him even though he couldn’t see them. 

“Um, hi,” he said. 

“Tim.” 

“Yeah. Is there something I can help you with?” 

“...” 

“Is this a threat to get me to stop following you guys?”

A soft, muffled laugh sounded from beneath Batgirl’s mask. “No. Just wanted to see.” They walked in silence for several moments before Batgirl spoke again. “I was… frustrated by you.”

“Oh.” Despite what he’s said to Robin, thinking about his hobby as stalking people instead of investigating supervillains made him feel like a creep. “I guess I should’ve considered that I was breaching you guys’ privacy. I’m sorry.” He remembered hating the few times his dad had gone through his stuff. 

“No. It would be… hypocritical… to be angry with you about privacy. I was frustrated… you were so sneaky.” 

Huh, that had been Nightwing’s main concern, too. He guessed his snooping seemed trivial in comparison to their thieving and beating up adversaries. Allegedly, some of the Bats had killed people, too, though he’d never seen them do so himself. He knew it to be true for Red Hood, at least with other criminal targets, but he’d never managed to trace any murders directly back to any of the other Bats. From what he’d seen of Robin, he wouldn’t put it past him. 

“I wasn’t that sneaky. You were all just busy with your cases.” 

“We need to notice when we are followed. Ignorance puts all of us at risk. I put us at risk.” 

Tim frowned. The last sentence was spoken emphatically, as if she were lecturing herself. 

“Maybe it’s not that you didn’t notice… maybe you somehow knew you didn’t need to notice.”

“Explain.”

“You know the comic-book hero, Spiderman?” Batgirl shook her head, but Tim pressed on anyway. “Well, he has a spidey-sense that lets him sense any danger around him. Maybe all of you, like, intuitively knew I didn’t mean any harm, so I just blended into the background to you.”

“Hm. Still need more training.” 

“If it helps, you’re always the one I have the hardest time spotting.” 

The fabric of Batgirl’s mask shifted, and Tim got the sense that she was smiling. 

“Bet you won’t… spot me again. Now that I know.” 

“Is that a challenge?” 

“Yes.” 

Tim believed her when she said he wouldn’t be able to do it, but he wouldn’t back down from such blatant, if jestful, provocation. “If I can spot you, how will I prove it?” 

“Picture.” 

That would complicate things. Spotting her was one thing, keeping her in sight long enough to capture her on camera was another. But it did sound fun. 

“Deal.” 

He blinked and Batgirl was gone. 

~

Tim waited another week before he worked up the courage to go out looking for trouble. None of the masked villains had turned up at his house looking for him yet, and he wasn’t dead, so he took that as a sign that those he hadn’t met yet weren’t too worked up about his existence. Packing some of his homework in case patrol was a bit slow, Tim planned to skateboard through one of his usual routes. This time, in Red Hood’s territory. 

According to news reports, a splinter group from a drug cartel based in Gotham had been experiencing small skirmishes in some of the warehouses in the area, with more than a few members being found dead. Considering the location and Red Hood’s decidedly more violent problem-solving skills, Tim thought he knew who he’d find. 

After a couple hours of wandering from warehouse to warehouse, Tim noticed a dull light shining through one warehouse’s windows. Inside, Red Hood was indeed beating up cartel members, though it didn’t appear to be a particular challenge for the villain. What was odd was that Red Hood was taking his time, exchanging a few punches with each opponent instead of taking them out forcefully like Tim was used to seeing. Some of his strikes couldn’t even be called outright punches. It was like he was dragging and pushing the goons along while they struggled with all their might to get a single hit in. 

Eventually, Hood did proceed to knock out his opponents. One by one, each went down with a single hit. At last, he held the final goon up by his collar, then did something Tim didn’t expect. 

“Smile,” Red Hood said, raising his voice and throwing a peace sign in Tim’s direction. 

Of course, Tim didn’t miss the opportunity. 

After the camera flashed, Red Hood dropped the goon, who fell limp to the ground. Hood dusted off his hands and sauntered in Tim’s direction, taking his helmet off as he walked. 

“Thought if I made enough noise I’d get your attention. You had me worried you weren’t coming.” 

Not seeing a reason to stay hidden, Tim stepped out from behind the box he’d taken cover behind and waited for Red Hood to come to him.  
“Your punches did seem softer than usual,” Tim said, trying to mimic Hood’s relaxed demeanor. “How’d you know I’d be-” patrolling tonight would definitely sound like he took himself too seriously “-around?” 

“Glad you noticed, and I didn’t. I’ve just made sure to be particularly slow and loud the last few nights.” Red Hood paused, then pressed a finger to his ear. “Haha, very funny. Going silent for a while.” 

“Oracle?” Tim guessed. 

“You got it. That a skateboard?” 

Tim nodded. “You ride?” 

“Nah, I used to want to though, as a kid. Now, the motorcycles, grappling hooks, and occasional freefalling are enough for me.” 

Red Hood took a gun from one of his holsters. Tim tensed, but he didn’t point it at Tim, or anything for that matter. He just sort of… held it and looked at it. 

“Listen, Tom.” 

The mood immediately shifting, Tim chose not to correct his name. 

“Bats aren’t people you want to emulate, or stalk, or whatever the fuck it is you do. Everyone in the little club has been screwed up enough in the past that this life is somehow comparatively better.” 

Silence stretched between them, and it took Tim a moment to realize Hood was waiting for a response. 

“Makes sense.” 

“It does, doesn’t it. Stop following us around, you’re gonna get yourself killed. Trust me. And even if you don’t, your life sure ain’t gonna get any better from this. Go back home to Mommy and Daddy in your big mansion.” 

Red Hood strode away, his footsteps heavy on the warehouse floor. 

“Better head out soon,” Hood called behind him. “You don’t want to be here when they wake up.” 

The warehouse’s metal door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the vast space and continuing in Tim’s own mind. With a final glance at the unconscious goons, Tim walked home, skateboard clutched to his side. 

~

Tim’s relief that no supervillains had shown up at his house had been premature. 

Batman himself stood across from Tim, arms folded and expression strangely disappointed. Shit, he got enough of that from his own dad. 

“Timothy Drake.”

“Yes, Batman sir?” 

He studied Tim for a long time, and knowing the villain, he could see right through him. After his encounter with Red Hood, he wasn’t sure what to expect from Bat’s visit. Judging from his demeanor, Tim didn’t think he was in any real danger. While known to use force, Batman wasn’t known to kill except in rare circumstances, and though those circumstances had grown more frequent in recent years, notably so after Jason Todd’s death, Tim didn’t think he made the list of “worth killing.” If anything, he’d probably tell Tim that he was being annoying and to knock it off. Maybe take something expensive on the way out. 

Instead, Batman held up a finger. “Be careful.” He held up another. “Stay out of the way.” And a third. “If you see any trouble, you call out for one of us to help you.” 

That stumped him. “You’re not going to ask me to stop?” 

“I have enough experience with young people to know you wouldn’t listen if I did.” Batman released a long-suffering sigh. “This business is not one you escape once you’ve entered it. It can become an addiction, and I suspect that to be true even from the sidelines.” 

“Is it that way for all of you?” 

“Some of us, at least. I know you don’t mean any harm, Tim, and I’m not going to use excessive force on a civilian. While I’d rather you kept your trailing to a minimum, I’d also prefer you do so as safely as possible rather than take risks trying to remain hidden from us.” 

“It sounds like you’ve had a lot of problems with teenagers sneaking out.”

He made a noncommittal sound which Tim took as affirmation. 

“I am confused as to why you’re so keen on my safety. I can’t imagine Penguin or Two-Face taking the time to offer safety to a nosy stranger. Is there a catch?” 

Batman turned to the window, ignoring Tim’s statement. “Remember what I said: caution, don’t interfere, call for help if you need it.” 

“Right, got it. Can I ask what you guys stole from the bank last week?” 

And just like that, he was gone.


	2. Opportunity

Tim dangled from the rooftop, Red Hood’s tight grip on his arm the only thing keeping him from plummeting to the concrete below. 

Above him, Red Hood fought off his opponent with one arm and no weapons, his gun left abandoned a few feet away in the scuffle. Tim’s feet were braced against the wall, and he had one hand on the roof’s parapet. He wanted to pull himself up so that Hood could focus on the opponent, but he worried that any sudden movements on his part would send them both toppling over the edge. And if he was being realistic, he wasn’t sure that the little upper body strength he had could handle it. 

Only minutes earlier, Tim’s roof-hopping had found Red Hood crouched above a dimly-lit parking lot. Hood didn’t acknowledge Tim as he approached, his head never wavering from the lot below, so Tim took a seat several feet away and quietly pulled out his calculus homework. He kept his camera ready beside him in case Hood jumped into action. 

As it turned out, Tim would be the one jumping into action first. A movement in the shadows on the other side of Red Hood caught his eye. At first, he thought it might be Batgirl, so he’d reached for his camera. But something seemed off. 

A glint in the darkness.

“Get down!” Tim launched himself at Red Hood, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back as a knife embedded itself where he’d been crouched. 

But Tim’s feet got tangled in the awkward maneuver, and he tripped over the roof’s railing. His stomach dropped. 

He was falling.

Falling.

Falling. 

Red Hood caught Tim’s arm. 

He upholstered one of his guns at the same time, but he didn’t pull Tim up—the figure was already behind him. Hood threw back an elbow, and the figure grabbed his arm and twisted it, the gun skidding across the rooftop. 

Hood cursed under his breath. He managed to fend off the figure while maintaining his grip on Tim, but Tim felt his panic rise as he realized he wouldn’t be able to carry on like this for long. Tim’s world slowed and sped up all at once. The ground seemed to zoom in and out as if he were playing with his camera lens. 

“Stop looking down,” Red Hood said through gritted teeth. 

The figure landed a glancing blow, and Hood’s grip on Tim’s arm slipped. Tim let out a yelp, but Hood grasped onto Tim’s wrist. Tim inhaled sharply at the sudden yank, sharp pain diffusing from his wrist through his hand and arm, but he wasn’t falling. Tim clenched the edge of the roof more tightly, the rough texture digging into his hand. 

Red Hood finally kicked the ninja in the chest, buying him enough time to haul Tim back onto the roof before he returned his attention to his opponent. Tim raced to pick up Hood’s gun and tossed it to him. 

“Thanks,” Red Hood said, shooting the man point-blank in the chest. 

Tim gasped. The ninja fell to the ground and clutched their chest, but were not spared a kick to the stomach from Red Hood before they went still. Red Hood holstered his gun, but kept his hand on it, scanning the shadows around them. 

“I’d say that’s why you don’t get involved, but I guess you did save my ass.” 

“Would’ve been better if I hadn’t fallen off the roof,” Tim said, his voice shaking and his eyes still on the body. The ninja tried to kill Red Hood first. Logically, he knew Red Hood killed, but seeing it up close… 

“We’ll just say it all evens out.” 

Tim released an awkward laugh, but he thought it might’ve come off a little crazed. 

“Who was that?” he asked. 

“Don’t ask me. Some goon who tried to kill us.”

Tim ignored the blood pooling beneath the ‘goon’ and observed their outfit. All black. Layered with sashes. A mask and hood. “They look like a ninja.”

“Probably was one. Very astute,” Red Hood said. Tim brushed aside the sarcasm and steeled his nerves. 

“Why was a ninja attacking you?”

“Why wouldn’t a ninja attack me?”

“You’re dodging the question.” 

“Really? I’m astounded that you’d accuse me of something like that.” 

Tim frowned. “Don’t be a jerk.” His eyes involuntarily darted to the corpse again, instantly regretting his choice of words, but Red Hood just snorted. “I didn’t know there were ninja in Gotham.” 

“We live in a city with regular killer clown attacks and the ninjas are what get to you?” Red Hood said as he bent over, riffling through the ninja’s pockets. 

“It’s just unusual, is all. Gotham’s brand of criminal activity is organized crime and the antics of the criminally insane. That was a— ” 

“A ninja, yes. I was here.” 

“Do you know who hired them?”

“I might know who they work for.”

“Will you tell me who?”

“Nope.” Hood pocketed something that Tim couldn’t see in a swift motion. 

“Can you at least tell me what was just in your hand?” 

Red Hood sighed in exaggerated exasperation. “You ask too many damn questions.” 

“Sorry. It may not seem like it but I’m holding back.” And not just about this latest encounter. There were too many unknowns for a civilian when it came to this world. The operations of the criminal underworld. The science and magic of superheroes and villains, and how the Bats compensated in battle with very little in terms of enhancements. The inner-workings of Wayne Enterprises, though he didn’t think they knew that he knew their secret identities yet, so he’d have to keep those questions to himself, for now. Instead, he settled on another topic. 

“I should’ve asked sooner, but are you alright?” 

Red Hood pressed his finger into Tim’s forehead. “Go home.”

“But— ” 

Red Hood jumped off the roof. 

“Bye,” Tim mumbled. He turned to pack up his stuff, but then he remembered that there was a ninja corpse on the roof with him. Were they supposed to do something about that? Tell the police, maybe? No. Red Hood would probably deal with it, if it was necessary. 

He bent over his bag. Luckily, his camera wasn’t injured, but when he reached to put away his calculus notebook, it wasn’t there. 

_Don’t tell me._

Tim peaked over the side of the roof, and he thought he spotted a hint of color on the ground. He scurried down the fire-escape and ran toward the scrap of color, relief washing over him when he realized it _was_ his notebook. 

In a puddle. 

“Great,” Tim muttered as he picked it out, but all his pencil scratchings of the night’s homework had smudged to nothing. “Great.” 

~

Jason popped open the apartment window, slipping inside with ease. The dim room faded into excruciating light, and Jason cursed. He blinked a couple of times before the woman sitting in front of him, arms crossed and face scowling, came into focus. 

“Hey Babs.” 

“Please tell me you didn’t break the lock, Jason.”

“I didn’t, I don’t think.” Jason held up a screwdriver. “Just used this.”

“You could’ve knocked.”

“Didn’t want to make you get up,” he quipped, but Barbara just lowered her head, massaging the bridge of her nose. The moment didn’t last long, and she raised her head with a knowing, if annoyed, smirk before returning to her computer screens. 

“Visits from you are a rare _treat_.” She over-enunciated the final word of the sentence. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, you’re the least painful person to talk to in this f- in this group.” Jason cursed himself for the slip of the tongue, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be upset with how Barbara’s mouth quirked upwards at the mistake. 

“We’ll see about that. What about Dick? I heard you two have been getting along better lately.” 

He snorted. “We work alright together, maybe. The problem is when he tries to extend that relationship beyond work.” 

“He misses you. We all do.”

“I’m around.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not here to have this discussion right now, O.” 

Barbara gave Jason a sidelong glance. “Then why are you here?” 

“This.” Jason reached into his pocket and placed a scrap of paper on her desk, sliding it towards her. “Found it tied to one of Ra’s’ sacrificial lambs.” 

Barbara unfolded the paper, her eyebrows knitted together. 

_Offering another opportunity._

_This time, be wary of the consequences._

“You’re sure it’s from Ra’s?” Barbara asked. 

“Again, found it off of one of his guys. Can’t imagine it’s from Talia.” 

“It does look like his handwriting. One moment.” She hammered away at her keyboard, pulling up a few handwriting samples across the screen. Her eyes darted back and forth from the computer to the paper, but Jason didn’t feel the need to check. He already felt sure he knew who wrote it. “It does look like a match, though I could do a more thorough comparison… ”

“I don’t think there’s a need,” Jason said. “It’s Ra’s.” 

“What’s he referring to?” 

“No clue, that’s why I brought it here. Figure it’s not for me, anyway. I’m probably just the messenger.” 

“If you think Bruce is the intended recipient you should have brought it to him directly. You know I’m too busy to be your mediator.” 

“So am I, but Ra’s couldn’t care less about throwing me between him and Bat’s business deals. Just pass it along, alright?” Jason paused. It was probably just another one of Ra’s bizarre schemes, but there was enough personal history between the two organizations that Ra’s could be trying to re-ignite. The most recent disturbance came to mind. “Do you think it could be about the demon brat?” 

“Hm, it’s possible.” Barbara closed her eyes. “I’ll talk to B, Jason, but I need a rundown of what happened. If you don’t give it to me now, he’ll just want you to come back and do it later. He still might.” 

“He’d better not.” Jason relayed the incident, mentally distancing himself a bit to avoid as much bias as he could. He’d been annoyingly paranoid since it happened, wondering if Ra’s was looking for an excuse to bring him back into the fold, or if he had simply been trying to get rid of him, for whatever reason. Not that there weren’t a million other more viable explanations that were just as irritating. 

“That Drake kid again?” Barbara mused once he had finished. 

“Yeah, and don’t tell the others he noticed Ra’s’ man before I did.” 

“All of you are getting rusty. You need to work on the basics.” 

“Don’t blame me—I had a civilian distracting me.”

“Mhm, so first none of you noticed him at all, and now he’s distracting?” 

“Guy’s like a cat when he wants to be. He’s a slinker. And I doubt he ventured close enough to be on our radar before he was caught. Last night, he sat right fucking next to me while I was waiting on a client.” 

“A client?” Barbara pierced him with a disapproving stare. “And I’m sure B knows about whoever this ‘client’ is?” 

“Fuck B.” 

“Jason.” 

“I mean it. I don’t need his permission for every racket or deal I run.” 

“You do if you want to keep wearing that symbol on your chest.” 

Jason’s retort lodged in his throat, and he found himself gaping at her. Shit. He scowled and turned on his heel. “I already did what I came here for, just give it to B. Or not. I really don’t care.” 

He stalked toward the window, his jaw set. The outline of a figure stopped Jason short, and his hand twitched for his gun, but Barbara spoke up from behind him, her voice calm. 

“I do have a door,” she said, and Jason relaxed. Batgirl stood in full uniform, her back bent but her head held high. 

“Batgirl 2,” he greeted. 

“Red Hood.” Cass straightened up. She took off her mask and threw it to the side, glowering at Jason as she passed. He opened his mouth, but looked away when he realized that she was continuing to undress. He should’ve headed out the window. Instead, he remained rooted to his spot. 

“We not on speaking terms?” he asked at last. 

“There’s no need to pressure her, Jason.” 

“No, no. If she has something to say to me I want her to say it.” 

Cassandra strode up in front of him, drawing his gaze to her focused stare. 

“Lots of murder on 14th street tonight,” she said. 

“That’s not unusual for Gotham.” Jason shrugged. 

“It was you.” 

Jason thought about lying, but Cass would just see through it. “Okay, you caught me. I killed a few people the world would be better off without. _Oh, the agony_. You already know that’s how I operate. Don’t see why I get your contempt more than anyone else. Especially since none of us exactly have clean hands.” 

“Nobody else… so careless with life,” Cass said, glaring up at him. 

He clenched his fists, red hot anger bubbling up inside him. “What about B?” he snapped. “Despite what you may want to believe he kills, too. Or is it only justified if he does it?” 

“He… doesn’t kill as much. I still disapprove. And… ” Cass looked down, trailing off. 

“And what, it’s my fault? Is that what you were going to say?” 

“Jason,” Barbara cut in. “That’s not what— ”

“No,” Cass said, her voice resolute. “I want you to… be more careful.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. I’m leaving.” He brushed past Cass, swinging one leg out the window and hesitating. He knew he would probably regret what he was about to say, but he’d rather regret saying something than saying nothing. “Cass, I… sometimes gratitude isn’t enough reason to stay.” 

He afforded himself one final glance at Cass. Her expression had changed, but Jason had trouble reading it. Worry? Sadness? Confusion? Whatever it was, he didn’t seek clarification before disappearing out the window. 

The paperback copy of _Peter Pan_ one the desk at one of his safehouses seemed more and more appealing as the night went on. 

~

Tim fidgeted under the gazes of Nightwing and Robin, both imposing in their own ways. Nightwing’s was friendly enough, but it was too penetrating, like he was analyzing every move he made. Robin’s, on the other hand, drifted somewhere between annoyed and homicidal. Judging from news articles and his own observations, Robin wasn’t usually the source of fatalities among the Bats, but he also had a hard time imagining a sword as a non-fatal weapon. 

Nightwing grinned down at him from the ledge of a small storefront. He jerked his head towards an adjoining alleyway, motioning for him to follow, and Tim obliged. 

“I heard you and Red Hood ran into some trouble a few nights ago,” Nightwing said loudly from his position on the roof. Trouble seemed to be a prerequisite to being a Bat, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He wondered if Red Hood had mentioned that he fell off a roof due to nothing but his own clumsiness. 

“Someone attacked Red Hood,” Tim said, taking a step back when Nightwing jumped down in front of him, “but he handled it pretty quickly.” 

“I’ll have to compliment him on avoiding getting killed.”

“Again,” Robin said. 

“Again?” Usually, Tim would have assumed something so ridiculous-sounding was a joke, but Robin’s expression was so serious that Tim couldn’t help but think he was telling the truth. He supposed anything was possible in an age of superpowered humans and advanced scientific discoveries. 

Then it clicked. The last piece of the puzzle. After discovering the connection between the Bats and Wayne Enterprises, it had been pretty clear that most of the Bats were the children or wards of Bruce Wayne. He’d figured that Richard Grayson was either Nightwing or Red Hood, and he’d leaned towards Nightwing due to some of the personality similarities and Grayson’s history in acrobatics. But he’d assumed Red Hood was a connection outside the immediate family. 

If Robin was being serious, then Red Hood had died. And Bruce Wayne did have a ward who had passed away some years back. 

Huh. 

The only Bat’s identity he was unsure of now was Oracle, but he hadn’t met them yet to form any solid conclusions. 

“Well, it got me thinking.” Nightwing snapped Tim out of his thoughts. “If you’re gonna keep trailing us, we might as well teach you a little self-defense. We’d feel bad if you died on us.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Robin said under his breath. Tim swallowed. Had he done something in particular to make Robin dislike him, or was this just his personality? He probably shouldn’t take it too personally that a well-known villain would either be indifferent to or delighted by the prospect of his death, but it was concerning that that villain was still a child. 

“He’ll grow on you,” Nightwing said.

“Which one of us are you referring to?” Tim managed to keep his tone lighthearted despite feeling the question to be a precarious one. 

Nightwing chuckled. “I guess both of you.” He placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Rob, please try to get along with him.” 

Tim expected the younger Bat to shake off the simultaneous display of affection and reprimand, but Robin actually leaned _into_ the touch. Maybe the kid wasn’t as feral as he seemed. 

“Why should I? Father doesn’t have any plans to recruit him, neither should he. Drake’s a nuisance at best, and a direct threat to our work at worst, so I don’t see a reason to ‘get along’ with him, as you say.” 

Nevermind. 

But he’d noticed another slip. People tended to assume most of the Bats were somehow related anyway, but one clue too many could give them away. The buildup of those little slips had solidified Tim’s speculations on most of the Bats’ identities. 

“He’s someone you occasionally cross paths with who isn’t trying to kill you, I’d say that’s reason enough,” Nightwing said. “Now, Tim, have you taken any self-defense classes before?”

Tim shook his head. “My parents have thought about signing me up before, but they never got around to it.” 

“Alright then. Robin and I will demonstrate a couple useful strategies that might come in handy.” 

Nightwing stood behind Robin and wrapped his arms around his midsection. Robin twisted out of his grip in several swift motions that Tim had trouble keeping up with. He tried to go over it again in his mind, but he couldn’t quite put together _how_ Robin had broken free, especially from someone whose strength greatly outclassed his own. 

“Could you show me again?” he asked. 

“Sure. A little slower this time, D.” 

Robin huffed, but did as he was told. This time, when Nightwing wrapped his arms around him, he twisted back and forth slowly, then threw in an elbow and a shove while rotating his body. He broke free, then immediately turned around with his fists in the air. 

“Just like that. Except after you get out of the hold, you run and yell as loud as you can. I don’t expect you to fight anyone off without a decent amount of training,” Nightwing said. 

Tim nodded, and the two showed him the motions again, this time segmenting it into steps. 

“Now you try it. We’ll go slow at first, then try to speed it up.” 

Tim turned around so that his back faced Nightwing, and they ran through the movements a few times. 

“Good, a little faster now.” 

They escalated until Tim was able to accomplish all of the movements at a quick pace without hesitation. 

Nightwing clapped him on the back, and Tim smiled up at him. “Perfect, you’re a quick learner. Now let’s run through it as if I’m actually trying to restrain or grab you.” 

Tim agreed, pushing down a wave of undesired apprehension. He faced away from Nightwing, and when Nightwing grabbed him, he repeated the movements, but was cut short. Nightwing’s arms didn’t move. He tried again, but ended with the same result. 

Robin, who had been leaning against the wall across from them while they’d practiced, snickered. “Amateurish,” he said. “I could do that and more with ease by the time I was four.” 

Tims cheeks burned. He knew age had little to do with it—he lacked experience—but hell if it didn’t still feel bad. 

“Enough.” Nightwing let go and stood between Tim and Robin. “Don’t mind Robin. You’re doing well from a technical standpoint, but you need to be more aggressive. Don’t be afraid to hurt me or go for vital spots: throat, groin, knees, face—especially the eyes and nose. Pretend I’m actually trying to harm you.” 

They repeated the moves, again and again, until Tim could consistently break free from his hold. 

Nightwing nearly whooped after his latest escape attempt. “Awesome job! Now, show me what you’d try if I alter my grip a little.” 

So Tim did. 

“And if their arms are a little higher?” 

And so on. 

Every once in a while, Tim would glance over at Robin, who watched Tim with a bitter scowl for the rest of the training session. 

“I think that’s enough for now,” Nightwing said at last. “That was some pretty straight-forward self-defense stuff, but you caught on quick. There’s a lot more you should learn if you’re going out on your own at night, but I don’t want to overwhelm you. Remember that this is just a precaution to escape or buy time, you’ll still want to call out for us if you’re in trouble.” Nightwing paused. “And double remember, going for the crotch is rarely a bad idea. Punch it. Kick it. Whatever you gotta do to escape a hold, then you book it.” 

“Right,” Tim said, panting. 

“It’s late,” Robin said. “We should head back to the cave.” The cave? Now that was a new one. Tim fought back a smile at the idea of the Bats being serious enough about their pseudonyms to nickname their base _the cave_ , and he nearly laughed aloud when he considered that Robin might be being literal. 

“Is something funny?” Robin snapped. 

“No, no, no,” Tim said, but he heard the smile in his own voice. “Was just thinking about something else.”

“If you do not wish to be killed, you would do well to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“Of course,” Tim said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Robin nodded, satisfied, but he still eyed Tim with the same disdain he’d had for the entire training session, so Tim turned to Nightwing. 

“Thank you for the lesson, I know you’re busy enough as it is. But before you go, I was wondering if I could ask you a question. I haven’t seen Batgirl lately. Has she been gone?” Tim had been trying to spot her every time he’d gone out, but he never seemed to have any luck. 

Nightwing knitted his brows in confusion. “What do you mean? She was here for our entire lesson.”

Nightwing spoke in such a deadpan tone that Tim couldn’t tell if he was joking. 

~

When he returned home, Tim went through some of his notes on the Bats. He’d written notes on everything he knew about them. Personalities. Roles. Fighting techniques. Weaknesses. He jotted down a few things he’d learned over the course of the night, namely relating to Red Hood’s identity, Robin’s attitude, and Nightwing’s teachings. 

He carefully folded them into a box full of newspaper clippings and photographs. Then, he got ready for bed. He felt he’d only just drifted off when—

“Tim!”

Tim bolted upright, harsh morning light shining in through the window. He wasn’t expecting his parents to be back for another week at least, but that was unmistakably his mom’s voice. He got ready as quickly as he could and raced down the stairs, making sure to slow down near the bottom so that his parents didn’t see him in a disheveled state. 

“Mom, Dad,” he greeted them evenly. Then, he grinned and hugged his mom, and allowed his dad to ruffle his hair. 

“Almost getting too tall for me to do that,” his dad said. “Don’t know how you grow so quickly. It seems like everytime I see you, you’re an inch taller.” Tim laughed and shrugged, but didn’t think he’d grown particularly quickly. In fact, he was on the short side for his age group, at least at school. 

“What are you doing back so early?” 

His mom handed her bags to Mrs. Campbell, who had traveled with his parents on their trip along with several other Drake staff-members, and began removing her shoes and some of her jewelry. “We found out Bruce Wayne is hosting a charity gala this weekend. We’re hoping to enlist him as an investor in a new project your father and I are taking on.”

“Bruce Wayne?” Tim didn’t like where this was going. 

“Yes, and you’ll be going, too,” his father said. “He may have a reputation as a playboy but he also has strong family values. We think if we show him that we’re similar in that regard he’ll be more likely to invest.” 

“Oh.” Tim _really_ didn’t like where this was going. While he’d figured out the Bats’ identities, he was pretty sure _they_ didn’t know that he knew. He didn’t know if his acting would be enough to sell his obliviousness. Perhaps he could blame any strangeness on his part on Bruce’s celebrity status, but that didn’t guarantee he’d escape suspicion. Batman and Batgirl’s eyes would be especially hard to fool. Tim didn’t know what they would do if they found out he was aware of their identities. Would they get rid of him? Make him join them? A tinge of excitement jolted through him at the latter prospect, but he pushed back against it. His fear of the former should be his highest priority. 

“Don’t worry,” his mom said. “We’ll do most of the talking. Just present yourself well and have a good time, Sweetie.” 

“But be sure to pay attention so that you can learn how to sweet-talk your way into a deal,” his dad added with a wink, and Tim forced a small laugh, though his mind still reeled at the thought of meeting his new acquaintances in their civilian identities. 

“You would know a good deal about sweet-talking, wouldn’t you Jack?” His mom’s voice was thick with irony, which finally snapped Tim back to the present, and his eyes darted back and forth between his parents. 

His dad coughed. “Anyway, Son, I suggest you read up a little bit about Wayne and his household. I think a ward or two of his are close to you in age, and if you _do_ decide to participate in the discussion, it’ll be good to go into it knowing some of his interests.” 

“I think I can manage that,” Tim said, a hint of irony in his own voice creeping in. 

That night, he didn’t go out. 

~

At school, Tim let out a sigh of frustration. It’d been days since he’d been out on the streets, which seemed like _years_ to Tim. He spent so many nights out in Gotham that it felt as natural a part of the day to him as sleep or school. 

“It’s not that I’m not glad they’re back,” he said to Stephanie as they walked to class, “but I’m used to going out on these… late-night walks, and the only way I could get away with that is if I sneak out. It sounds dumb, but it’s sort of how I cope with the day-to-day.”

“Why don’t you sneak out then?” Steph took a sip out of her vending machine soda through a straw. 

“I don’t know. It’s one thing when they’re not there. But to sneak out when they’re just rooms away? It doesn’t feel right. I’ve tried it a couple times in the past, but I was always so worried about them coming into my room and seeing I wasn’t there that I couldn’t… enjoy myself.” 

“That’s a toughie. I guess you just gotta figure out if the walks are important enough to you to risk it. They’re probably gonna have another ‘work trip’ soon anyway, so if you really don’t want to sneak out while they’re home, you can always just wait a little longer.” 

“I guess,” Tim said, his shoulders slumped. “What about you Steph? How have things been at home?” 

“Same old, same old.” She grinned, then whispered to him conspiratorially. “You know, I’ve actually had a few late-night excursions myself lately.”

That stopped him in his tracks. Was she hinting at knowing what he’d been doing? Had she followed him? Was Steph one of the Bats he hadn’t met? No, that wasn’t likely. “Really? What kind?” 

Steph shrugged. “Oh, just going out for walks, same as you. Guess we both enjoy that fresh Gotham-night air.” 

Tim still got the sense that she was referring to something else, but he let it slide. “I wouldn’t call any Gotham air fresh, but I guess so. I might be being a hypocrite in saying this, but please be careful. You know how dangerous Gotham can be at night.” 

“I think I’ll be fine, I’ve taken a lot of self-defense classes,” Steph said. “You be careful, too. You’re a small guy and probably wouldn’t scare off any muggers or villains on looks alone.”

“I’ve also taken some self-defense lessons.” Well, one self-defense lesson. “I can handle myself.” 

“I guess that makes two of us.” 

“Yeah, but we shouldn’t get overconfident. A little self-defense knowledge isn’t going to stop a bullet. Stay vigilant while you’re out.”

“You, too.” 

They parted ways when the paths to each of their classes diverged. Tim greeted several classmates as he entered, then pulled out a notebook he kept in his bag for personal use, rather than for schoolwork. He jotted down notes on his plan for the charity gala. Maybe if he focused on preparing for the gala, he could distract himself, at least for the next couple days, from being homebound for the time-being. 

~

Bruce stared at the batcomputer, his chin resting on his hands. Several windows were scattered across the screen, one of which contained Ra’s’ note. Short and sweet. 

_Opportunity,_ Bruce thought. Ra’s had spent years trying to recruit Bruce as his successor, or at least merge their organizations, and this could be a renewed effort to accomplish that goal. But the addition of Damian complicated things. He hadn’t heard or seen an inkling of Ra’s since he’d found out about Damian, and he and Talia had agreed that Damian would stay with him. This could be the old game, or it could be a request for Damian’s return. 

“Have you spoken to Talia, yet?” Dick asked, leaning over his shoulder, his expression serious and his eyes scanning the screen. 

Bruce shook his head. “I haven’t been able to contact her. She’ll be found when she wants to be.” 

“Could she be a part of… whatever this is?”

“I don’t think so. She would have come to me directly.” Talia had disappeared after turning Damian’s charge over to Bruce—not unusual for her—but she wouldn’t go back on her decision so easily. 

Dick studied Bruce. “Would she, or would you just like to think she would?” 

“She would,” Bruce said firmly. 

“I can’t even figure out what he means. Is it an offer? A threat? Both? As a message it’s not very effective.” 

“Or it’s very effective.”

“You lost me, B.”

“It got us thinking. He only wants our attention, for now.” 

“You know he likes playing games with you. Maybe he wants you to figure out his plan on your own.”

Bruce slid away from the computer. “I’ve searched all week for clues, but I haven’t found anything significant. I haven’t seen any evidence that he’s had his hand in Gotham at all, save for Jason’s run-in with one of his men. The only thing left to do now is wait until he makes his intentions clear.” 

“Wait?” Dick held up a hand to stop Bruce from walking away. “What about Damian? Or Jason? I’m all for waiting for him to make the first move, but what if he’s planning to target one of them?” 

“Jason already knows to be on the look-out. We’ll keep an extra eye on Damian.” 

Dick blinked, his mouth agape. “That’s it? I’ll do what I can to keep him physically safe, as always, but I’m worried about his relationship with Ra’s. Whether Ra’s wants him back, is out for revenge, or is just conducting business as usual, this could be really hard for Damian. He’s gonna have conflicting feelings regardless of if we work with or against his grandfather.” 

That had been Bruce’s concern as well. Damian hadn’t been a Bat for long, and he couldn’t yet be sure of the boy’s loyalties. Talia may have given her blessing for him to stay with Bruce, but he didn’t know what Damian would do if his grandfather asked him to come home. Neither did he want the boy broken up over his grandfather’s rejection. “Don’t tell him, for now. I’ll add extra encryption to the computer.” 

Dick scoffed. “For now this, for now that. Bruce, if Ra’s is planning something we can’t wait until it’s too late. You know that.” 

“Keep an eye out,” Bruce said, leveling Dick with a steely look. 

He walked away, but he felt Dick’s gaze on his back until he left the cave. 

_Be wary of the consequences_ , Bruce thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who interacted with this fic! I was hoping to update a bit earlier than this, but it is what it is. I ended up having to split this chapter because I'm trying to keep chapter length somewhat consistent, but here we have some new povs and some hints at future problems for the characters!

**Author's Note:**

> Leaning a little into canon and fanon, then taking a whole bunch of liberties for this au. Hoping for a lot more hurt/comfort in this fic down the line!


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